Lord Protector (33 page)

On the fourth day, he continued downstream, searching for a crossing. The river grew narrower and deeper, becoming a raging torrent that roared over rocks. Two more days of walking brought him to a place where several rocks stood above the water in midstream, and a fallen tree trunk, bleached grey by the sun, spanned half the spate's width. Blade sat on the bank and considered it, glancing at Rivan, who paced the bank. The cat laid back his ears and spat.

Blade smiled. "You just don't want to get wet."

The cat turned his back and sat down.

"But we'll have to, if we want to cross it. This is the best place I've seen. Do you have a better plan?"

Rivan shot him a scathing glance, huffing.

"I didn't think so. With that tree trunk and the rocks, we may reach the other side only a little damp."

The cat spat again.

Blade stood up. "Come on, let's get it over with."

Rivan followed him to the end of the log, then sat down, eyeing the water. Blade calculated the distance to the rock in midstream, which was a fairly long jump from the end of the log, and wet with spray. The leap would be dangerous. Deprivation still weakened him, and if the rock was slippery he could end up in the river, a fate he did not relish. If he landed safely, however, two more rocks offered easy access to the opposite bank. Forests of bristle pines clothed both sides of the river in a solid wall of dark wood and dull needles. Further downstream, the river entered a steep-sided gorge, and he may have to walk for days to reach its bank again.

He cast the cat a confident smile. "I can do this."

Rivan spat.

Blade walked back along the log for several paces, fixed his eyes upon his target, took a deep breath and sprinted to the end of the log. Even as he kicked off, he knew his trajectory was wrong. He had not factored in the log's ability to bend as he leapt. He would fall short. Blade flung his arms and legs out ahead, striving to lengthen his leap. His boots hit the rock and skidded. His hands gripped its slick surface for a moment and slid off. The torrent swallowed him in its icy, turbulent depths. Blade kicked for the surface, breaking into the air with a gasp. The river swept him along swiftly, spinning him around, scraping him over rocks and sunken logs. Something sharp tugged at his trouser, dragging him under. If he became snagged on anything, he would drown.

Blade swam to the surface again, the chill constricting his chest, making it hard to breathe. He glimpsed a shadow racing along the bank, keeping pace. The gorge loomed ahead, its steep rocky sides forbidding. The cold made his muscles cramp as shivers racked him. He swam for the far bank, the rushing water threatening to engulf him. His breath came in ragged gasps and his heart laboured, thudding. The last of his strength drained out of him, and the water closed over his head and spurted up his nose.

A soft grating woke him, mingled with distant coughing and groaning. Cold stones scraped his cheek, and his lungs bubbled. He coughed, foam oozing from his lips. Someone dragged him by his collar, and a soft snarling accompanied the powerful tugs that hauled him along. He rolled onto his back. Shivers made his gut clench and his teeth ached from being gritted. Why did he bother? Why did he struggle to stay alive when he had so little to live for? Rivan stood over him, panting clouds of steam, his eyes wild with anguish and water running from his coat.

Blade grimaced and ground his teeth, waiting for his violent shivers to warm him. Rivan chirped and placed a paw on his chest. Blade raised his head and glanced around. He lay on a tiny beach at the foot of the gorge's sheer wall, the raging torrent lapping at his boots. Rivan sat beside him, watching him with worried eyes, and Blade stroked his sopping coat. The wood cat had dived in and found him under the water, then dragged him to the bank. The strength, courage and resolve that such a feat had taken made a lump close the assassin's throat.

"Rivan," he whispered. "I owe you my life now too."

The cat licked his hand, then his face, his warm, rough tongue rasping on Blade's cheek. His hands shook as he gazed up at the towering cliff with despairing eyes. He was trapped between a cliff and a torrent. Closing his eyes, he allowed the lethargy to drag him into its dark folds.

Rivan's warm tongue woke Blade at dawn. The cat desisted when the assassin opened his eyes, and Blade struggled to sit up. Rivan had licked himself dry during the night, but Blade's wet clothes clung to him and his boots squelched when he drew up his legs. The cat gazed up at the cliff, his ears swivelling. Blade followed his eyes and grimaced.

"Maybe you could, but I can't climb that now."

The cat glanced at him and spat.

"I know, I must, but not now." The assassin lay down and closed his eyes. If he did not climb the cliff, he would die here. Blade rested until the sun blazed overhead, drying his clothes a little, then sat up and eyed the cliff. Rivan watched him, purring.

Struggling to his feet, Blade set his fingers into the cracks in the rocks. He tried to ascended swiftly, while Rivan watched him from below. Blade was about halfway up when a rock came loose in his hand. He snatched for another hold, but his fingers slipped off the rocks, and he fell. He twisted to get his legs under him, then the stony beach hit his boots and his bad ankle buckled with a crunch. A cry of pain was torn from him, and he curled up, clutching his ankle. Rivan licked his cheek, chirping with concern, while the assassin writhed and groaned, grinding his teeth.

Blade lay still, waiting for the agony to subside, cold sweat popping out all over him. Darkness fell, and he spent the night curled up, the pain keeping him awake until just before dawn, when he dozed. The sun's warmth woke him, and he grimaced as he sat up to pull off his boot and inspect his swollen ankle. This time it was definitely broken, probably in the same place as before. The bones grated when he moved it, making him wince and grunt. Removing his jacket, he pulled off his shirt and tore it into strips, binding his ankle with it. Now he would be even colder at night. The binding eased the pain however, and he gazed up at the cliff again.

Stubborn pride would not allow him to give up, and Rivan's presence bolstered his resolve. The cliff had challenged him, and now he would conquer it or die trying. More likely the latter, he mused bitterly. Another loose rock and broken ankle, and it would be the end of him. Unlike walls, natural obstacles were treacherous, it seemed. He pulled his boot back on and set his fingers into the cracks again, testing each handhold before he put his weight on it this time. The ascent was torturous, and by the time he hauled himself over the top and flopped down on the needles, his heart laboured and his limbs shook. Rivan joined him a moment later, and lay beside him to lick his face.

Blade crawled into the shelter of the trees and stretched out beside a log, exhausted. His heart ached and breathing was difficult, but he had made it. Rivan stayed with him for a time-glass, then vanished into the forest to hunt. Blade had almost no energy left, and the pain of his injury sapped him further. How he was going to travel to a town in this state was beyond him. He just wanted to lie down and give up, but he knew Rivan would not let him.

Sensing an approaching presence, Blade opened his eyes. Dusk sent long fingers of shadow through the trees and gilded the fallen needles to red-gold. A movement caught his eyes, and he turned his head, holding his breath. A pair of fen dogs approached, noses to the ground, their black eyes glittering. They looked like a cross between a pig and a dog, with broad blunt snouts and coarse black hair covering stout torsos atop short bowed legs. They lived mostly on carrion, but also ambushed unfortunate animals and tore them apart with massive jaws. They always worked in mated pairs, and usually had a brood of young close by. Fen dogs were devoted parents until their offspring left the den, after which they became prey like any other. They were also extremely dangerous, and an adult pair such as this would not hesitate to attack a human.

Blade's first instinct was typical of cat kin, and he glanced up at the trees. They were all arrow-straight bristle pines, with no low branches, impossible to climb, especially with a broken ankle. He groped for a rock, his eyes locked on the approaching threat. His hand closed around a sizeable stone, and he hefted it. Fen dogs were not particularly brave, and preferred to attack their prey from behind. His outstretched legs would be their first target, and he drew them in so he could protect them.

The movement sparked an instinctive reaction in the fen dogs, which attacked his legs, snarling. Blade brought the stone down on the nearest one's head as the other animal sank its teeth into has calf, worrying it. The female fen dog collapsed, her brains addled, and the male squealed as he tugged and jerked at Blade's leg as if trying to rip it off. The assassin cried out, swung the stone at the beast's head and struck it a glancing blow.

The fen dog squealed and tugged harder, unwilling to release its prey. Folklore said that once a fen dog locked its jaws onto its prey, it could not release it until the prey was dead. Blade hoped it was an old wives' tale as he swung the rock again, missing this time and hitting his thigh instead. Darkness nibbled at his vision, and the pain made him shout again.

A lithe shadow hit the fen dog from the side, bowled it over and ripped its teeth from Blade's calf. Rivan wailed and slashed at the squealing fen dog with his claws and fangs. The beasts rolled together in the needles, hissing and snarling. Blade crawled closer, raising the stone, but the animals moved too swiftly and he was afraid he would hit Rivan. If the fen dog got hold of Blade's familiar, it could kill Rivan quite easily. Rivan leapt free of the skirmish and shot up a tree with a tick-tack of claws. The fen dog rolled to its feet and attacked the tree, goring the bark with powerful fangs.

The creatures were blind killers, Blade reflected, although they could see perfectly well. The fen dog stopped ripping at the tree and gazed up it. Rivan descended, his claws gripping the bark, drawing the beast's attention. Blade crawled closer and brought the rock down on the fen dog's head with all his might. The beast collapsed, quivering, and the assassin slumped, clutching his bleeding calf. Rivan leapt down and came over to lick his friend's hand, chirping in concern. Blade grimaced, inspecting his torn trousers and the oozing holes in his leg. Forests, he decided, were horrible places.

Chapter Twenty Two

Four days later, Blade limped into a picturesque hamlet, relieved to be back amongst people again. Without money, however, it did not offer him much comfort. He spent the first night in an empty stable at the local livery, and the next day pondering how he could make some cash. He was too badly injured to work, and he had no weapons. No one would believe, with his ragged, stinking garb and half-starved appearance, that he was the Lord Protector. That did not leave him many options, and reminded him of when he had first arrived in Jondar, so many years ago.

The hamlet, however, while peaceful on the outside, was something of a bandits' den, he discovered. A lot of thuggish men roamed the streets and thronged the taprooms, and honest citizens hurried about their business with furtive looks. Smart ladies in fancy frocks and frilly hats moved in groups for safety, and well-dressed men carried rapiers. Blade stuck to the shadows as dusk fell, an instinct for him, and well advised in this town. Having decided to see if he could make something on a wager, as he had done in Ashmarad, although he would need to borrow a dagger, he made his way along a narrow alley towards a busy taproom.

A female shriek made him glance around, then he continued, dismissing it. He was not in the habit of rescuing women, especially in his current condition. Another shriek made his skin crawl, and he paused, gazing in the direction whence it had come. There was always a chance, he mused, that if he rescued a rich lady, she would reward him. Then again, there was an even greater likelihood that if he took on even one thug in his present state, he would be the one who ended up dead. He walked on, but a bloodcurdling scream stopped him again.

Blade cursed and stepped back as a young woman ran into the street ahead of him, lifting her skirts to aid her flight. A man chased her, chuckling and reeling drunkenly, but still a threat to the girl. She tripped and fell, and the thug was upon her in a flash, tearing at her clothes. Blade's blood chilled, and he frowned. Rivan glanced up at him with an enquiring chirp. The assassin scowled and walked closer to the struggling pair, disliking the ugly grunts the man made as he groped under the girl's skirt. He seemed oblivious to the assassin's presence, but then, Blade was a shadow amongst shadows.

Blade stopped a pace away, wondering if he should kick the man with his broken ankle or try to stand on it while he used the other. Neither idea was all that appealing. He had no intention of breaking his fist on the man's thick skull. Then again, there was always something lying around that could be used as a weapon. Spotting a loose plank hanging from a gate by one nail, he hobbled over to it and wrenched it off, then returned to the struggling pair. He had used a plank to good effect in the past.

The thug dug his way through the whimpering girl's multitude of petticoats, clearly intent on rape. Blade's swing hit him square in the face, lifted him off his victim and sent him crashing onto his back. The thug rolled to his feet, surprising Blade, and the girl leapt up and fled. So much for her gratitude, he thought bitterly as he faced the irate cutthroat, who fingered his smashed nose. Blade backed away when the hulking man shambled after him. He swung the plank again, cracked the thug on the side of the head and made him reel. Still he came on, and Blade recalled the propensity of such men to have skulls of solid bone.

Fleeing was out of the question with a broken ankle, and he continued to retreat, brandishing the plank and wishing he had his daggers. He swung the plank once more, but this time the cutthroat caught it as it bounced off his temple and wrenched it from Blade's grasp, leaving a few splinters in his fingers. Blade cursed, rubbed his smarting hands and glanced around for something else to use as a weapon. The thug swung the plank, and Blade leapt back. His broken ankle buckled, and he sprawled, scrambling up as the man swung the weapon again. Rivan attacked with a wail, tackled the man's leg and sank claws and fangs into it.